


kinktober 2019 - day 13

by birdginia



Series: Kinktober 2019 [13]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Gags, M/M, Swordplay, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 08:20:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21033161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdginia/pseuds/birdginia
Summary: "Now hold still.” Alois lifts the blade point-down, lining the end up with the forced O of Ciel’s mouth.





	kinktober 2019 - day 13

Their swords are on the ground, either knocked to the floor or thrown aside in favor of grappling with bare hands; Ciel has Alois underneath him, their fingers locked together, neither one willing to give in. 

Alois slams his knee in between Ciel’s legs, and Ciel shouts, his grip weakening for only a moment—but long enough to allow Alois to shift his weight and roll Ciel onto his back. Alois takes advantage of the new angle to knock the back of Ciel’s head on the ground, sending a wave of dizziness and nausea through him. He does it again, making Ciel’s head ring, and Ciel finds his grip loosening. He feels bile rise up in his throat and swallows it back, grimacing at the burn.

Alois lets go of Ciel’s left hand and takes a swing at his head. Ciel fights to keep consciousness, blinking back dark spots and gritting his teeth against exhaustion—and then his hands lose feeling completely.

When he opens his eyes, his vision is still partially obscured—Alois is leaning over him, fiddling with something at the back of Ciel’s head.

Something’s in his mouth.

Trying to close his mouth proves fruitless, metal trapped behind his teeth, the band around his head keeping it in place and metal prongs protruding from the ring keeping it from moving. The moment Ciel starts to move, Alois lets go of the device and grabs Ciel’s wrists, holding them down at his sides. 

“You look good with my spider in your mouth,” Alois says, face centimeters away from Ciel’s. “Shame Claude’s busy with your stupid butler, he could hold you down for me so I could fuck your throat.”

Ciel can’t even make an effort to form words, his mouth trapped as it is, but he can shout and struggle, kicking his legs in an attempt to dislodge Alois from his position straddling Ciel’s waist. His movements are still weak from his head being bashed into the floor and then into Alois’ fist, and the nausea hasn’t stopped. 

Alois lets go of one of Ciel’s wrists to reach for the sword lying down nearby—closer to them now, after their fight devolved into what Ciel can only think of, scornfully, as childish roughhousing—and before Ciel can grab at Alois’ throat, he slices a gash into Ciel’s free arm. Ciel screams, his arm dropping uselessly in pain.

“That’s better. Now hold still.” Alois lifts the blade point-down, lining the end up with the forced O of Ciel’s mouth.

Ciel turns his head to the side and struggles harder, pushing against Alois’ hand on his other wrist to no avail.

“What, would you rather I slit your throat? I said... hold... _still_!” Alois drops the sword to the side, thrusts, and metal clangs as he lands it perfectly inside the ring, barely touching his tongue.

Ciel holds still.

Alois grins.

“I’ve won! I’ve _won!_“ Alois laughs, the pure joy of a child having played a game successfully. “I could kill you now, or later, or any time I want!” He pushes the sword in slowly—it barely fits, even with how the ring seems to open Ciel’s mouth as wide as it can go, and the metal screeches against itself and makes Ciel’s teeth vibrate. He moves his tongue to the bottom of his mouth the best he can, Alois goes further, further, and Ciel tastes steel and copper both. 

“Look how easy it goes! In,” he keeps pushing, “and out!” He pulls it back, and Ciel lets out a sharp breath as the blade stings him on the way out. “Oh, how exciting! I could do this for _hours_.”

Alois pushes it back in, further than before, and the blade hits something in the back of Ciel’s throat, and Ciel does vomit this time, saliva and acid and the remains of tea and pudding splashing up the length of the sword with Ciel powerless to hold it back. His chest convulses, making him spasm helplessly, the blade leaving shallow slices on the skin of his tongue and throat and making him even sicker. 

Alois grimaces. “How disgusting.” He pulls the blade all the way out, and Ciel coughs, blood and saliva and vomit drooling out of the sides of his mouth. “Now Claude will have to clean it _extra_ well.” He sighs, shakes some of the horrid matter off of the sword, and lines it up again. “Might as well get the rest of the blood on there.”

Ciel shuts his eyes, but the pain never comes, and he hears a sharp cry from Alois and the clatter of metal on the ground. 

“Bastard!” Alois yells, and there’s a flash of silver that knocks him backwards—the end of a piece of silverware sticking out of his shoulder.

Ciel tries to call for Sebastian in a strangled, wet yell, and feels himself scooped up off the ground in an instant, pulled safely away from Alois as he shouts for his own butler. 

“I came as quick as I could, young master,” Sebastian says quietly, unbuckling the device. Ciel flexes his jaw and swallows agonizingly for what feels like the first time in hours, and holds out his wounded arm for Sebastian to tend to with a torn scrap of his own coat..

“This is an order,” Ciel says, wincing at the movement of his sliced tongue on the words. “_Kill Alois Trancy._”

Sebastian tightens the knot of his makeshift bandage, head bowed. “Yes, my lord.”


End file.
